


Close quarters

by Mere_Mortifer



Category: Lucifer (TV)
Genre: Attempt at Humor, Dirty Talk, F/M, Fluff, Gentle Sex, Hair-pulling, Humor, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Lucifer Morningstar (Lucifer TV) is a Little Shit, Lucifer is a Sex God, Lucifer is vocal in bed, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Reader-Insert, Self-Indulgent, Semi-Public Sex, Smut, Talk of Oral Sex, Trapped In A Closet, Tropes, Vaginal Fingering, Written in too many days, but that's canon so don't @ me, sex in a closet, shy reader
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-27
Updated: 2019-03-27
Packaged: 2019-12-25 13:17:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,728
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18262082
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mere_Mortifer/pseuds/Mere_Mortifer
Summary: So, like...what if you got stuck in a tiny closet with Lucifer?That's it, that's the plot.***The fact is, the closet really is tiny and with her standing up they would be nose-to-nose if it weren’t for the height difference. He's more than a head taller than her, and this close she would need to barely move to kiss the column of his neck. Her eyes follow the line of tendons under his skin from his jawline, down to where his shirt obstructs the view.Unable to resist the pull of his gaze, she raises her eyes to meet his.“Hi”, she says again, as softly as the atmosphere requires. Her stomach is already tied up in knots.Lucifer's smile softens, and he angles his head so that their lips are even closer together. “Hello, there."





	Close quarters

**Author's Note:**

> Hey everyone! This is my second fanfiction ever. Thank you for all the nice comments in my other shameless reader-insert PWP. I see we all have a crush on Lucifer, yeah? It'd really be like that sometimes.
> 
> This is set somewhere in season one where both Lucifer and Maze still think Lucifer became is mortal even when Chloe is not around.

She knew it was a bad idea even before leaving her house.

Honestly, a blind date? Her? Recipe for disaster, obviously. She still doesn't know what compelled her to accept to go to dinner with some random guy that her best friend works with - actually, she knew why: it was to stop her cries of “you seriously need to get laid!” 

And sitting at a table of the restaurant, still blissfully alone after an hour and a half, she realises that the guy had stood her up. Which would be very sad, possibly even a hard blow to her self-confidence, if only cancelling plans didn't always give a rush of endorphins: the anxiety that had clawed her all week disappears; her shoulders relax, the high heels she's wearing don't hurt anymore.  
She doesn't even give a fuck that she's sitting alone at a restaurant, that's how good the prospect of good food and her favourite book (she had it in her purse, just in case) without a stranger sitting with her feels. 

Also, there's this man, a few tables from hers, that with some luck she'll be able to stare at without being seen.  
He's sitting with a dark haired woman, but he's so magnetic she barely notices her presence. He's got dark hair, perfectly styled, and stubbles that shadow his strong jawline. She risks another glance at him a minute later, hoping against hope that he doesn't notices, and catches a view of his profile while he talks with the sommelier. He's smiling, a bit lasciviously, looking at the other man from underneath his lashes.  
Is he-is he flirting with him? Chances are he is, considering how the sommelier is blushing - and, really, it makes sense. If she was that hot she would flirt with anything and anyone just to see them all flustered.

He looks like a Hollywood actor.  
No, better, he looks like Hollywood actors look in your head when it's the middle of the night and you're thinking of that super hot scene that was your sexual awakening as a teen.  
In other words: too good to be true. She is probably just making him up, actually. 

Fuck, her friend is right - she does need to get laid.

In the meantime, she will not deny herself the small pleasure of imagining, in graphic details, all the ways she could ruin the expensive suit he's wearing. 

Which is obviously when a gunshot resonates in the room, scaring the shit out of every client.  
Because this is her life: she can't think “hey, I'd like to have sex with than man” without God going like think again, bitch and sending someone to shoot the place!  
She thinks this while scrambling away from her table, fight or flight instinct kicking in before she has time to think. “Flight” wins, hands down, because you don't bring uncomfortable heels and lack of military training to a gunfight.  
“Lucifer Morningstar!” someone screams behind her back when the shooting stops. “You're a dead man!”  
The oh-so-hot man from before is still comfortably lounging on his chair, idly drinking from his wine glass. “Am I now? That's news to me.”  
The woman who was dining with him is standing protectively close to him, wearing the smile of a shark ready to kill some innocent baby seals. 

Get the fuck out of here, a rational voice in her head says.  
“Door. Too far.” she mumbles to herself, eyeing the scene and the feet of panicked clients and staff exiting the restaurant. She is hiding behind some decorative plants, on her hands and knees.  
Great sentence structure. Hide, then, go, come on!  
And so she crawls away, praying not to be seen, towards the staff-only part of the restaurant.

***

She ends up in some sort of service closet inside the kitchen, comforting both in size and the silence that closing the door shut brings.  
There's a distinctive smell of soap in the air, and the only feasible place to sit are some packages of toilet paper, but you know what that tiny supply closet doesn't have?  
Menacing figures dressed in black shooting everywhere.

It feels like a home, already.

She stays there for a while, listening desperately for the distant screams and noises of things breaking to stop - or at least for police sirens to come closer.  
And for a while nothing changes, but then the door to the kitchen bangs open and for a second she thinks this is it, this is how I die.  
Killed in a dusty closet that smells like a hospital.  
“Stay here!” a woman's voice intimidates.  
“But, Maze-” A man this time, British, the tone of a child that got denied his favourite candy.  
“No but's, I'm not gonna let you get killed!”  
There's the sound of two pair of feet moving - oh no, oh no, please no - closer to her hideout and she has literally nowhere to hide, so she slaps a hand on her mouth and tries to do her best impression of a cardboard cutout. She manages to shut off the light, though - not that it will do much. 

The door of the closet wrenches open, and she doesn't have time to think before a tall figure takes up the little space left, almost falling over her.  
The door closes again, lock clicking into place with violence. “And you stay the fuck in there, Lucifer, am I clear?” the woman says, and then nothing more.

Lucifer?, she thinks. The man I was imagining in compromising positions few minutes ago?  
And then, after fixing her priorities: the one they were shooting at?

“Like a lock can stop me…” Lucifer (what kind of parents-) is muttering to himself, but his words trail off. His shoulders tense, his head snaps to the side, but she can barely see all this in the low light that filters from underneath the door. “Oh, but I have company. Hello, there.”  
He finds and flicks on the light switch a second later, turns to see her still sitting on - on toilet paper, of all things.  
Fuck her life, honestly.  
“Um, hi.” She gives him a little wave. The effort not to stare at his crotch, which is at less than 20 centimetres from her face, is using up all of her social skills - she doesn't nervously giggle only by the grace of God.  
His eyes light up, and a boyish smile replace the frown on his face. “You're that cute girl from before! What a pleasant surprise”, he purrs, biting his bottom lip as he does a once-over of what he can see of her figure. “And you're at such an interesting angle, too.”  
He called you cute, the high-schooler in her notices.  
He's thinking of you sucking his dick!, screams what's probably still the high-schooler in her, but this time with more hormones involved.  
Ah, the duality of (wo)man.

“I guess that's me, yeah”, she manages to say. “And you're...Lucifer?”  
“That's right, Lucifer Morningstar. Mind coming up here?” He offers her a hand, that she gratefully takes, and he helps her back on her feet.  
There's a strength behind the gesture, hiding under the smooth material of his suit, that makes her head spin for a second.  
That, and the fact that the closet really is tiny and with her standing up they would be nose-to-nose if it weren’t for the height difference. He's more than a head taller than her, and this close she would need to barely move to kiss the column of his neck. Her eyes follow the line of tendons under his skin from his jawline, down to where his shirt obstructs the view.  
Unable to resist the pull of his gaze, she raises her eyes to meet his.  
“Hi”, she says again, as softly as the atmosphere requires. Her stomach is already tied up in knots.  
Lucifer's smile softens, and he angles his head so that their lips are even closer together. “Hello. Can I know your name?”  
She tells him.  
He says it back, pouring his British accent all over it, tasting its sound on his lips. “Is that right?”  
She nods, because she doesn't trust herself to talk, trying to calm herself down. Impossible not to think how he would say it in another context - or, not even in another context, just 10 minutes from now, 5 minutes if she has it her way…  
She must be blushing furiously by now, but maybe he notices how nervous she is because he mercifully doesn't comment on it.  
Nervous? Weird way of spelling 'turned on’.

“You're alright, yeah? I'm sorry for all this - those men are here for me. Worry not, my friend is taking care of them.”  
Right on cue, some muffled screams filter through the door.  
“I figured. But I'm fine, yeah”, she reassures him. She doesn't know where to put her hands, where the fuck does she put her - “Uhm, does this happen often to you? Getting shot at, I mean.”  
“People like to try, sometimes, yes. It has never been a problem until recently”, he adds in a more irritated tone.  
This guy is probably dangerous, she thinks, he's like a mafia boss or something.  
...Do I really wanna fuck a mafia boss?  
“I think we'll be stuck here for a while. Say, how should we spend this time together?” he says, his big brown eyes shamelessly set on her lips.  
Yes, yes she does, apparently, so much so that the desire gets stuck in her throat, renders her speechless for a moment before sliding down, hot and heavy, to her stomach and then even lower.  
“How should we spend this time”?  
What a stupid fucking question.  
He knows what he's doing, the bastard. This beautiful, infuriating man who looks so perfect she's starting to think he's just an hallucination. Eyes too dark, voice too smooth. She's never been one to lust after a man in a suit, always too uncomfortable around them and their aura of confidence to find them attractive...but Lucifer's legs are long in his tailored Prada trousers and she is - she is, at the end of the day, just human. What is the saying? Flesh is weak?  
Yeah, she does feel pretty weak at the moment.  
Actually, she's gonna pass the fuck out if he keeps looking at her lips like that and expect her to do something about it. It's a miracle she’s even still standing!  
“We- we could get more comfortable”, she finally says, after what feels like a year but were probably just a few seconds of her staring at him, mouth open like a dumb, sexually frustrated fish.  
“Oh? How so?” Lucifer presses their bodies closer, and shimmies a little, as if to show her that there isn't any space left in their hideout. “Not much to do about that, I'm afraid.”  
Flush against him, from her breasts on his toned chest to one of his legs pleasantly slotted between her thighs, she needs a second to get her brain back online. She feels hot all over, and the sound of her own heartbeat is deafening in her ears.  
His thigh is so tantalizingly close to where she really wants it - the thought of the friction of his trousers against her already-soaked underwear is maddening.  
“Of course, I could hold you up if you want to”, he adds, feigning innocence. The effect is somewhat ruined by the low timbre of his voice, but mostly by the feeling of his cock hardening against her stomach. “I'm sure it'd feel better than standing in those awfully pretty shoes of yours.”  
Lucifer's hands rest nonchalantly on her waist, his thumbs stroking comforting circles on her ribs - and wow, his hands are big, aren't they? Her breasts would fit perfectly well in his palms, like they were made to touch her there, and then lower, lower, to cover the expanse of her stomach, and then to finally cup her over her underwear…  
“Still with me?” he asks gently, bringing her back to the present.  
“What? Yeah, I'm still...here. With you” - what the fuck was that, even? Get a grip! - “I had something else in mind, actually?”  
“Do tell.”  
“Mh, there's that little glass panel on the door? It's too low for you but if we switched positions I could look through it”, she explains. “So we can see who - uh, enters the kitchen?”

Okay, alright, she pleads the fifth: she just wants to 1) feel him pressed against her back, and 2) hide her face from him to calm her nerves. Sue her.  
Lucifer doesn’t seem concerned with the faulty logic behind her plan, though; doesn’t ask questions like “What we would we even do if we saw someone enter the kitchen?, or “How would that make us any more comfortable?”. He just smiles, and looks quite delighted at the proposition. 

 

“That’s a wonderful plan!” he lies, but with a playful tone that tells her he’s ready to humor her. “I’m particularly interested in how this change in positions will happen.”  
And she’s very interested, too, if ‘interested’ is an euphemism for ‘turned on out of her mind’. To be fair, his mind seemed to also have gone in the same direction as hers, if the tongue-in-cheek smile he gives her is any indication: there will probably be some grinding involved.  
Hopefully, a lot of it.  
“Shall we try, then?” he asks, and doesn’t wait her response before making his grip on her waist stronger to tug her against him. His thigh slides higher and presses right against her core, where she desperately needed pressure; she gasps at the feeling, wondering in the back of her mind if he can feel how wet he is through the leg of his trousers.  
“Oops, my bad”, Lucifer says, but doesn’t seem sorry at all, because he does it again, making her bite her lip hard enough to bleed in the effort of silencing a moan. She answers “no problem”, or maybe just rolls her hips against him on her own, who knows? Definitely not her. 

The pressure of his leg eases right after, unfortunately, and the two of them try to rotate on their place without stepping on each other's feet until her back is now facing the door.  
“Yay, we’re halfway there”, she murmurs against his neck, using talking as an excuse to move her lips on his skin. Lucifer laughs breathlessly in her hair and lets her hands sneak under his open jacket to rest against his sides. 

 

Fuck, fuck, he’s perfect, she thinks, a wave of desire hitting her squarely in the chest. She wants him so much she can barely think, and she realizes - hearing how fast his heart is beating, feeling how laboured his own breathing is - that Lucifer wants her, too.  
The realization is intoxicating and helps her relax under his touch.  
She likes the he’s not being all calm and collected; she likes the thought that he will gladly come apart in her arms with no shame. 

“Now's the fun part”, he says, arching an elegant eyebrow at her. His hands leave her body to sit on the door behind her, effectively caging her in. She doesn't mind one bit.

The closet was obviously made to accommodate only one person at a time, because they are squeezed close enough that turning around will be quite the...intimate experience.  
She has never been this excited for something in her entire fucking life, she swears.  
“Here goes nothing” she giggles, and thankfully Lucifer seems to find it more endearing than annoying.  
She slides her hands up from his waist to his chest, in an unnecessary move studied just to feel his abs contract under her fingers, and then takes them away from his body altogether. She tries to disentangle their legs, and Lucifer reluctantly helps her by moving his toned thigh away from between hers - for the pleasure of literally no one in the tiny room.  
Finally she can turn around - and God bless high heels because her hips are at just the right height to drag against Lucifer's clothed erection with every move.  
“Bloody-” she hears him hiss when her they're finally back-to-chest and her ass presses deliciously on his cock. He feels so hard she doesn't know how he's still coherent.  
“You have to agree” - she wiggles her ass a bit with the pretence of fixing her position - “this does feel more comfy.” Being able to hide her face is making her bolder.  
Behind her, Lucifer bites back a groan by pressing his lips in her hair. His hands flex into two fists and relax again on the cold surface of the door.  
“My pants don't feel that comfortable at the moment, I'm afraid”, he murmures directly in her ear. His voice is so low and grumbly that she can feel his chest vibrate against her back with every word. “I'd apologize for this” - he pushes his erection more firmly on her lower back - “but you haven't complained even once, so. Also, can you blame me?”  
She makes a questioning sound, lost in the feeling of his lean body flushed on hers.  
“Close contact, the thrill of possibly being caught - also, you're wearing lip gloss and your hair smells awfully nice…” He kisses the soft skin behind her ear, playful. “A better man than me couldn't resist.”  
She can feel blood rise to her cheeks again, and she hides her charmed smile behind her hand. He's got this seduction schtick down to a t, doesn't he? 

The entire thing feels surreal. Stuff like this doesn't happen in real life, you don't just find yourself stuck in a closet with Mr. Tall, Dark and Handsome singing your praises in the sexiest British accent she has ever heard.

“Say,” he continues, oblivious to her line of thought, “before the Bad Guys stormed the place, were you dining by yourself?” One of his hands disappear from her line of vision to shift her hair all on one side.  
“I-yes, I was by myself” she says with what little voice she has left. Lucifer's lips kissing her neck are doing wonders to make her forget about the failed blind date. ‘The guy - oh, that's nice - uhm, the guy didn't show up.”  
Lucifer knee slides between her legs until she gets the idea and spreads her thighs to accommodate his better. The friction of his trousers against her clit is heavenly even with her panties still in the way - and, oh, she realizes after a few second that she was absentmindedly grinding against him.  
“He stood you up? Obviously didn't know what he was missing.” His hand splays over her stomach and then slides down, until he can gather the soft fabric of her dress in his fingers. “What a rude, bad man”, he says, voice breathless with arousal. He keeps his touch feather-light on her inner thigh, making her shiver and bite back a moan. 

She wants, needs him to touch her, her hands are shaking with the strength of the feeling. Maybe he is the actual Devil, she thinks, because this is straight up torture.  
But she will not beg him: she has a feeling that Lucifer would just want to hear her being desperate for him a while longer if she did.  
“But love, you're in luck - cause I'm much, much better anyway.” He leaves another heated kiss on her neck and moans when his fingers finally, finally, touch her where she wants him. “Fuck, darling - you're so wet.”  
Wet? She's dripping, she probably completely ruined the leg of his trousers - and she would be mortified if Lucifer wasn't acting like that's the hottest thing he has ever seen. 

His fingers have sneaked inside her panties while she was busy grinding her ass against his straining erection and now he's doing - things on her clit that makes her see stars in seconds.  
“Mh, what I would do to you if we were in my bed”, he whispers in her ear. Two of his fingers slide easily into her, and they both shudder at the feeling. His free hand goes to the side of her face to angle it towards him, so he can kiss her lips even at the awkward angle. “All naked and flushed and tangled in my sheets. I'd bury my head between your legs, would you like that?”  
She gasps at the words, at the image that paints itself in her head. His fingers crook inside of her, just right, and her her hands are shaking so much she can't even properly hold onto him.  
Lucifer keeps talking in that grumbly voice of his, lips so close to hers they're almost kissing at every word. “Would you - fuck, would you close your thighs and keep me there... tug my hair, moan my name, all pretty and desperate? I would love it if you did,” - his touch is as frantic as she feels, his free hand roaming everywhere he can reach but returning, always, to gently hold her jaw - “you'd have to beg me to stop - but I would keep going until you came again, and again...like now, oh fuck, you're close, aren't you? Just let go, love, le-”  
She kisses the end of the sentence right of his mouth, right when all the tension coiling hot in her belly snaps, leaving her knees week and mind blank.  
Lucifer supports her through the shock waves with a strong arm around her waist. He kisses her much like he was talking seconds before: languid, full of promises, and with a thinly-veiled urgency that, more than anything else about him, makes her stomach tie up in knots.  
Oh, isn't he so, so lovely? All dark eyes and low voice and clever fingers-  
Mh, she's probably a bit high on endorphins.

“You alright, love?” he asks when her legs stop trembling with the force of her orgasm.  
Never been better, she wants to say, but “Nnngh” is all that comes out of her mouth.  
“I'll take it as a yes.” She can feel him smirk against her neck. “Are you up for more?”  
She almost starts sobbing then and there.  
So she could just tell him that she is not, in fact, up for more and Lucifer would just be like ‘It’s quite alright, no problem. Excuse me while I try to make my pants less tight in the crotch area’?

Fuck, that's so hot.  
She wants him inside of her, like, yesterday.

“Hell yeah, I am” she says with her face still abandoned against his chest, which is not very sexy of her, but also the best she can do at the moment.  
He smiles at that, all bright-eyed and red-lipped because of her kiss, stealing her breath away without even trying.  
“That's the spirit”, he says, and dips his head down to lick a hot strip on her neck. One of her hands comes up to sink in hair to keep him there, feverish lips attached to her skin, and he responds with a breathless chuckle and a bite.

Things get - a bit blurry, after that. When she'll inevitably tell her friends about what happened, arrived at this part they will not manage to get more that a dreamy sigh out of her. 

When her head momentarily clears and she manages to open her eyes, she finds her hand still grasping at Lucifer's hair - too strong, probably, but when she moves to let him go he makes this annoyed sound at the back of his throat -, and him finally unbuttoning his pants.  
There's a rustling of fabric, some movements that she can't see because there's no space to turn, and then Lucifer's hand are back on her hips. “Ah, dat 'eels much better”, he says - or tries to, because the...oh, the condom he's holding with his teeth makes things more difficult.  
His hands keep her still while he pushes himself against the line of her back so she can feel him, really feel him, with two layers of fabric less between him and her, pressed against her lower back.  
Fuck, she wants him so bad she feels it in her stomach, in the spaces between her ribs, in the knot stuck in her throat. The emptiness of not having him inside her is a physical ache.  
“Give me that”, she manages to say, and takes the packaged condom from his teeth to open it with shaky fingers. “Hurry up.”  
“Bossy - I like it.” The warmth of his body disappears for few second while he hunches her dress up to expose her legs and ass. “Oh, hello. Pretty from every angle, I see”, he says appreciatively.  
She can't resist arching her back and wiggling a little.  
He laughs low in his throat. “Yeah, yeah, you minx, you already got in my pants. No need to put on a show”, he teases her - but he doesn't waste a second more before sliding her panties down to her ankles.  
She would panic about her choice of underwear but 1) she absolutely does not remember what she put on and 2) they already hit the ground. No reason worrying now.  
“Lovely”, Lucifer sighs behind her, and both his hands go at her hip bones, thumbs digging in her lower back. He raises her to her tiptoes - because he's too tall for her despite the high-heels -, so close to finally, finally-  
She notices she's still holding the condom. “Wait”, she says in the moment of pure panic that only forgetting a condom can bring. “Wait, fuck, the- the thingy, here, before we forget.”  
“What thin-oh, I see.” He takes it from her hand. “Of course, common courtesy and all. We could not use it, but I don't want to give a bad example”, he says, conversationally, while he rolls it on.  
What does that even mean?, the rational part of her thinks.  
If he doesn't fuck me in the next two seconds I'm going to cry, screams the rest of her mind. 

But she’s not thinking anything anymore a few seconds later, because Lucifer is sliding into her in one long stroke. She’s so wet and ready that he’s bottoming out before either of them can get used to the sensation, and he breathlessly moans against her parted lips like he wasn’t expecting her body to take him in so easily.  
The hand that’s not pressing on the door goes to clutch his jacket, touch the feverish skin of his naked thigh, slide against his ribs until Lucifer takes a hold of it and guides it back to his hair.  
“Keep it there”, he half-growls half-mumbles while sinking his face in the crook of her shoulder. He bites there, softly, when he pulls out and she instinctively tightens the grip on his dark locks.  
He pushes back in, then, with a practiced roll of his hips that melts her brain and makes her brokenly stutter his name.  
Lucifer sets a slow pace, just how she likes it - and how can he read her body so well to even know that she likes it slow and deep and intense?  
She thought that there would have been urgency behind every thrust, that he would finally chase his own orgasm after ignoring his own needs to concentrate on hers.

If nothing else, they should hurry before they get interrupted - by the police, by that strange woman he was dining with, anyone.

Instead he revels in every broken sound that leaves her lips, in how her legs shake every time his hips are flushed against hers again.  
“Say, would you mind- oh, ungh” - his words fade out into a muffled growl at a particularly hard thrust - “would you mind if I left some marks?” He licks a hot strip on her neck. “I just want to eat you up”, he explains, playful smirk so wide on his face she can basically hear it.  
Marks? As in, hickeys? Oh, oh, yes, she wants them. She wants to touch them and hiss in pain and think of him, in the days to come; she wants a physical reminder that she had such a stunning man in her arms.  
She nods, probably letting out some affirmative sound - not that she would notice, not through the pleasure clouding her mind and the burning-hot feeling of him inside her.  
His white, perfect teeth bite that spot behind her ear that she could swear has never been that sensitive before; and that's the last sensation she chooses to focus on before she closes her eyes and let's Lucifer have his way with her.

Not that she was, like, complaining. Quite the opposite.

Some time later, she could not for the life of her tell how long, his clever fingers slide from her waist to down between her legs.  
“I want you to come like this, while I'm inside of you” he murmures, breath hot on her skin. His fingers stroke circles on her clit, while the heel of his hand presses gently on her lower abdomen - and she would bet that he can feel himself move in and out of her under his touch. “Feel you get even more tight around me, pull me closer. Would you like that?”  
“Yeah, yes, oh Go-ah!” - he bit her a bit too hard, but he immediately soothes the pain with a feather-light kiss - “Keep doing...yeah, fuck, that. I-I'm close”, she stutters, bold and desperate and impatient, because she wants to see how he looks like when he comes. Wants to know If it's going to be her name rolling off his tongue, if his grip will get strong enough to leave bruises, whether or not his knees are going to give out like hers certainly will. “Are you? A-Are you close?”  
He leaves a wet kiss on her cheek, and exhales there, eyelids heavy and brows furrowed, “I'll be right behind you, love. But you first.”  
And then he renews his efforts to make her eyes roll back in her head in pleasure. 

She falls off the edge soon after at a particularly slow drag of his fingers, when he's so deep inside of her she knows she'll feel empty for days after.  
Her muscles clump around him, keeping him there, while her legs lose all strength and it's only his arms that keep her upright.  
True to his word, he follows suit. Lucifer comes moaning her name, certainly putting up a bit of a show for her enjoyment - not that she can complain, with how pretty his lips look forming an almost pained ‘oh’.  
So she kisses him, when his eyes flatter back open and their breathing start slowing down, because she can't believe he's right there to kiss her back.

***

“These trousers are a lost cause”, he's saying while they try to get decent. 

She still doesn't have strength in her hands, but thankfully all she has to do is lower her dress. And pretend she'll have no problem walking out of there on high heels in a few minutes.  
“Yeah, I mean”, she responds, “so is my underwear.”  
Lucifer raises one eyebrow and smirks. “Then take it off, love. You can stuff it in my back pocket for safe keeping.”  
She opens her mouth to say something, although she can't decide what's more appropriate between “hot” and “gross”, when the tell-tale sound of an angry woman in high heels resonates in the kitchen outside.

One second later the knob of their door falls to the ground with an offended thump!, and the door is wrenched open for the second time in the evening.  
It's the same dark skinned woman that she was dining with Lucifer, and also apparently beating the shit out of armed men. She looks at her, then shifts her disbelieving gaze to Lucifer. “Really? When did you manage to get a girl in here?”  
“I was here first, technically”, she explains. Lucifer nods innocently while slipping out of the room. “That's true, Maze. It was quite the effort, fitting both of us in there both.”  
“I think you fit in alright”, Maze replies.

She would blush, but she's still too high on endorphins to care about her freshly-fucked look. Especially when seeing Lucifer's “just had sex” own look is almost a religious experience - messy hair, rumpled clothes, marks of lipstick everywhere. Would it be rude to take a photo? 

“We gotta get out of her, fast”, Maze continues. “I called in one of your favours to keep the police busy for a while - you're welcome, by the way. But they are one their way.”  
She starts tugging Lucifer away, ignoring his outraged easy, this shirt's Armani!  
He turns to her when they're almost out of the kitchen. “Come to my club one of this days, will you? It's called Lux, I'm sure you've heard.” He winks at her, seemingly not giving a fuck about the cops as much as he wasn't fazed by getting shot at. “I believe I made some promises about a real bed, didn't I?”  
And then he's out of the door. 

But apparently not of out of her life. 

A real bed, uh? 

***

23.15 - From: BFF <3  
> So??? How's the date going?  
23.17 - To: BFF <3  
> heyyyy omg the guy didn't show up fuck you very much btw but also like,,, thank god, you know?  
23.17 - From: BFF <3  
> He didn't show up? D: I'm so sorry! What happened? You're writing like you're drunk.  
23.18 - To: BFF <3  
> drunk on life babyyyyyyy  
> srry my brain is still mush because i came like twice if you can believe it lmao  
> like, wow. you should try it sometimes  
23.19 - From: BFF <3  
> Okay, TMI but also what??  
23.19 - To: BFF <3  
> had sex in a closet, people where shooting. long story. i'll tell you when my brain comes back online  
23.20 - From: BFF <3  
>WHAT ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT  
> Omg if you don't tell me how, I swear to God  
> Hello?????  
23.26 - To: BFF <3  
> picture attachment  
23.26 - From: BFF <3  
> Is that your NECK? holy shit  
>Did you fuck a vampire? Is that why you're all weird? Loss of blood?  
> I hate you so fucking much. You better tell me in the morning istg  
>...but also like, good for you. I hate you but good for you.

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry for any typos people, it was hard writing one-handed. You know how it is.
> 
> If you let a comment, even like one of this "🍆💦" you would make me the happiest girl in the world. Okay thanks BYEEE I hope you enjoyed it!


End file.
